I know I just ended the title in a preposition, but if I had titled it “Things at which I wish I excelled” I think you all (all, what?, five of you) might be a little put off. I’m not too snobby over here. So, here are some things I wish I was better at/had the oomph to do.
- I wish I could decorate my apartment better. When people come over (when my mom came over, that once… because… well, you know, no friends), I make the excuse that we can’t paint or nail things to the walls. But the truth is, I really suck at putting things together in terms of color or taste level, etc. I want to live in a fun and eclectic kind of place, but I just can’t get my stuff together. Here are examples of funky things I’d like to incorporate, but am too lame/poor to make happen: a pretty forest painting, a colorful bedspread (Sean will veto that before he even sees it), an elephant picture, and a tiger blanket/outfit. Ok, that last one was really just for me. Also, decorating is, like, so expensive, dude. Totally.
- I wish I liked long-distance running. I like the idea of running–the adrenaline pumping through you, the wind cooling the sweat on your skin, the world going on around you while you’re getting away from something and running toward something else. I don’t mind running when there’s an obvious point. Like in soccer, running is just on the periphery of what I’m actually doing. Sean and I run 5ks every so often, but toward the end, I’m just left with myself. And I’m a really boring person to have a conversation with. I mean, I always know what I’m going to say, so predictable. Anyway, I don’t find the catharsis in running that super-runners do. I find it tedious and boring. I mean after so many miles, I just tend to focus on how my feet feel in my shoes. Then I notice that maybe they hurt, or are they numb? I’m not sure. I can feel the seam of my sleeve on my arm. This is boring. Look, a dog. My feet still hurt.
- I wish I were better at resisting food that’s bad for me. Here’s the deal, if it’s in front of me, if it looks tasty, if I allow myself one bite, I will consume it. All. For example, when I was younger, my mom never let us buy Fruit Roll Ups. They are pure sugar, she would say. Rot your teeth. Cavities! Eat an apple. Well, once I went to the store with my grandma, and she told me I could get one item. FRUIT ROLL UPS! On the way home, I had one. OHMYGARSH. Magnificent. When we returned to my mom’s salon, I proceeded to hide in the back by the towel drier and eat them all. What are there, like, ten Fruit Rolls Ups in a pack? About ten minutes later, I was feeling a little ill. I did not vomit Rainbow Brite, but when I told my mom why I was sick, she followed up with, “This is why we don’t eat Fruit Roll Ups and other junk foods.” This is why we can’t have nice things… Anyway, to this day, if I am around a food that I really want and I have one, I have a really hard time stopping myself there. MUST CONSUME THE REMAINDER OF SWEETS ON THE PLANET. Why can’t I control myself?
- I wish I were a better dancer. I can do general choreography, but, man, do I lack soul. I pretty much look like Carlton.
I’m sure there’s a lot more I can improve on, but I can only admit that I’m imperfect for a short period of time. Whew.